The forward companionway led down into the main cabin. She moved
toward it, her pale green gown fading into the shadow. At the foot
of the steps she turned and looked back at me. I had been stupid
enough, but I knew then that she had something to say to me,
something that she would not trust to the cabin walls. I got the
wrap.

She was sitting in a deck-chair when I found her, on the lee side
of the after house, a position carefully chosen, with only the
storeroom windows behind. I gave her the wrap, and she flung it
over her without rising.

"Sit down, Leslie," she said, pointing to the chair beside her. And,
as I hesitated, "Don't be silly, boy. Else Lee and her sister may
be as blind as they like. You are not a sailor, or a butler, either.
I don't care what you are: I'm not going to ask any questions. Sit
down; I have to talk to some one."

I sat on the edge of the chair, somewhat uneasy, to tell the truth.
The crew were about on a night like that, and at any moment Elsa Lee
might avail herself of the dummy hand, as she sometimes did, and run
up for a breath of air or a glimpse of the sea.

"Just now, Mrs. Johns;" I said, "I am one of the crew of the Ella,
and if I am seen here--"

"Oh, fudge!" she retorted impatiently. "My reputation isn't going
to be hurt, and the man's never is. Leslie, I am frightened--you
know what I mean."